


Catch and Release

by taradlee



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Pittsburgh Penguins, Pittsburgh Pirates, Slow Burn, baseball!AU, catcher!geno, pitcher!sid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 04:10:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11200167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taradlee/pseuds/taradlee
Summary: "As the seasons fade and begin again, Geno feels so lucky to be able to call Sid his teammate. They've already shared four years in Pittsburgh together, and countless playoff runs. He knows he can trust Sid with his life if he needs to, because he's just that kind of stand up guy. Still, there's the little problem of being hopelessly in love with him."





	Catch and Release

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever posting any of my work, so go easy on me? :) Huge shout out to Diana (@DC11961) for sending me the pics of Sid throwing the first pitch at the Pirates game yesterday and inspiring whatever this turned out to be.

The concept of such a talented Canadian baseball player was difficult for a lot of people to wrap their heads around when Sidney Crosby was drafted into the MLB. He's heard it all: _don't Canadians play hockey? Isn't it a little too cold up there for baseball? But it's America's pastime!_ So generally, Sid's used to people thinking he's a bit odd. It's been that way his whole life; his superstitious pre game routines certainly don't sway anyone's thinking in the other direction, but he's got a solid system going. So what if likes to eat his peanut butter and jelly a certain way on game days? A sandwich never hurt anyone, and as long as he's winning games the Pirates organization really can't complain. 

And Sid is so incredibly grateful. He feels like the luckiest guy in the world to be able to pitch professionally in Pittsburgh. He loves the city, and usually - after a win, the city loves him back. It was a blessing in disguise being picked up by a team that had been struggling for years. Everyone around him had an opinion about it, but Sid was ecstatic, and seeing how pleased his father was was confirmation enough. He belongs in Pittsburgh. The fans are incredible, the city is beautiful, and he loves his teammates. Some a little bit more than he should.

___

The only thing more amazing to the world than a Canadian baseball player, is a Russian baseball player. For whatever strange reason, people don't believe that people in Russia could actually get into baseball. But Evgeni Malkin has always been the type to prove people wrong. He's been a catcher since he was old enough to know what the position even required, and he's a damn good one at that. So it doesn't come as a surprise when he gets drafted to the MLB. 

Geno doesn't know very much about the United States, he's just excited for his chance to play there. When the call comes through from Pittsburgh, he signs his contract, books his flight, and doesn't look back. He knows it's going to be difficult; he barely speaks English, and he knows he's not likely to find many other Russians, but he doesn't care. He gets to live his dream, and nothing else matters.

___

During his rookie season, Geno doesn't see very much action behind the plate. He knows he's lucky to even be in the majors at this point- most guys get stuck in triple or double A limbo for years. So really, he shouldn't complain that he's riding the bench for a little while. He pays his dues, works his butt off during the few opportunities he does get, and he just tries to enjoy every moment. Without realizing, or really even trying, he becomes a fan favorite. The people of Pittsburgh seem to love his goofy smile and lackluster English skills. After his first big league homer though, people just lose their minds. 

Its not even anything fantastic; just a short, quick blast during a game when the Pirates were already blowing out the Dodgers 7-0. The manager tossed him in for the last two innings to rest up their usual catcher, and Geno was just so excited to finally get to do his thing. What really gets the media going though is not his talents, or even his strength. It's the interview he gives after the game. 

Geno always has a translater present for interviews. He's trying to learn English, and most days he's okay to answer a few things on his own. Still, it's an important comfort for him to have someone around who understands him. That night though, Geno's too excited to let the translater speak for him. So when the interviewer asks him how it feels to have reached this big milestone, he blurts out "I am score!" and that becomes the slogan for the rest of the Pirates season. 

Geno gets quite a bit more playing time after that, and his numbers are indicative of just how hard he's been working. He tacks on another nineteen homers, and propels the Pirates to a fourth place finish: just shy of the playoffs, but they haven't come this close in years, and the city, the fans and the whole organization are buzzing. 

___

That following February comes quickly, and Geno can't wait to get back on the field with his team. He'd amped his training up all winter long, and he really felt like he was in the best shape of his life. He goes into spring training with the utmost confidence, ready to prove that he really deserves the starting position, experience be damned. 

The pitchers and catchers report to Bradenton almost two weeks before the rest of the team, so Geno has some time to get in the grove and get acclimated to the heat. He's not used to the humidity Florida is famous for, but he loves the sunshine, and he's always thinking he can use a tan. The first day of camp, Geno realizes there's a lot more press around than there had been the year before. It's odd, but he doesn't think much of it because Americans love to know what's going on every moment in their favorite players' lives. 

"Geno, good to see you buddy!" His manager calls out. He shakes his hand when Geno jogs over. "Looks like the off season was good to you. Listen, we've got a new kid pitching today. Just drafted, looking to earn his roster spot this season. I want you to catch him, alright? I figured since you're just coming off your rookie year, you can make him feel comfortable. Relax him a bit, yeah?"

Geno's teeth are worrying at his lower lip. "I'm... still not speak best," he struggles. "Maybe- someone..."

His manager shakes his head, offering a reassuring smile. "No, Geno, that's alright! You don't have to talk much, just catch for him. Okay?" The way he's looking at Geno tells him he isn't really asking, so Geno nods slowly. If keeping some new pitcher company will get him in his manager's good graces, then he'll do what he has to. "Great! I knew I could count on you, Malkin. And just between you and me, this kid's got a promising future. We're hoping to see big things from him." With that, he claps Geno on the back and leaves him in the dugout to get his gear on. 

Geno tries not to read into the situation. He doesn't want to admit that he's still struggling understanding everything his manager is saying to him, because he really is trying to get better with his English. Right now though, he's just there to focus on baseball. 

This all goes out the window the moment Geno steps out onto the field. His eyes are instantly drawn to the man standing in the third baseline, running his hand through his hair. His back is turned to Geno, which is... _okay_ , Geno's got tunnel vision. No one's ass should ever look that good, baseball pants aside. His mouth goes dry, and if it weren't for his specialty coach calling his name, he'd have stayed there all day, staring. 

Swallowing hard, Geno makes his way over. He keeps his eyes on his cleats so he doesn't trip and humiliate himself, even the mere thought of that makes his cheeks flush. "Coach," he greets, nodding. 

"Geno this is Sid," his coach tells him. "We're hoping you'd catch for him today." 

"Yes, I'm catch," he agrees. He has yet to meet Sid's eyes, afraid of how his body might react if he does. 

"It's really nice to meet you," an unfamiliar voice says. It doesn't take him long to piece together that it's Sid speaking. He's got some kind of an accent- Geno's not quite sure what it is, but it sounds nice, like honey slipping off of a spoon into a steaming mug of tea. "I've watched you play; you're incredible." 

Geno forces a smile, and finally chances a glance at the man. Oh, dear God, Geno is _so fucked_. Sid's soft smile is lightning up his whole face, his light eyes nearly sparkling. Geno's positive he has never seen such a beautiful human in his entire life, and this bad. So, so bad. He can't have a crush on his teammate. It'll just end poorly: heart break, and being kicked of the league, probably. It didn't matter how great his teammates were about his sexuality, if this new guy, Sid, was as promising as the Pirates thought and Geno made him uncomfortable- he didn't want to think about that. So instead, he pulls his mask down over his face and gives Sid a thumbs up as he jogs to home plate. 

They hadn't discussed hand signals, so Geno just lets Sid take the lead on that as he gets down into his stance. From here, it's easy to tune out everything but the feel of his glove on his hand and the ball heading for him. When he offers a nod, Sid winds up, throwing a perfect fastball down the middle. Geno's surprised by the sting he feels as he closes his hand over the ball. None of the other pitchers had thrown fast enough before. Still, he tosses it back wordlessly and waits for Sid to send another his way. 

They carry on this way for a while, and with each pitch, Geno is growing increasingly impressed with Sid. He's yet to stray from the strike zone, and Geno estimates he's tossing at nearly ninety-eight miles per hour. His hand has never been this sore before, but it's a good feeling. As he stands, tossing his helmet to the side, he notices Sid jogging in to him. "You fast. My hand... sore, first time," Geno tries.

A thousand watt smile breaks out across Sid's face, and Geno's heart nearly stops in his chest. "Sorry! I didn't hurt you did I?" He grabs Geno's hand and examines it, fingers smoothing over the reddened skin slowly. 

"No!" Geno exclaims. "I professional, no hurt."

Sid looks pensive, eye brows knit together. "Okay," he says eventually. "Well, sorry again."

"No apologize," he insists. "Just- you fast. Is good."

"I don't think I've ever thrown that fast before," Sid admits. "I felt great out there. Maybe you're good luck, Geno." 

Geno knows it's a joke. It's ridiculous to think that he could have any kind of effect over Sid's game when he just met the guy, but it's a nice thought to entertain. "Of course. I'm best." He puffs out his chest and grins proudly, earning a loud, honking laugh from Sid. Geno decides it's the best sound he's ever heard. 

___

As it turns out, Sid might've been onto something when he called Geno good luck. The pair had worked together all throughout spring training, and Sid only seemed to get better every day. He cemented a spot in the pitching rotation easily, and Geno is so proud. Despite the language barrier, and the fact that Geno forgets how to speak all together when he's around Sid, they become fast friends. Geno loves to tease Sid: he's pretty short for a pitcher, and most other professional sports in general, really, which is a sore spot for him. So naturally, Geno exploits it every chance he can. Sid's a good sport though, and he humors the goofy Russian because really, he just enjoys spending time with him. 

When the regular season rolls around, Geno's starting every other game, which is just huge for him. He's maintaining a solid batting average, and the Pirates are winning. No one talks about it, but everyone's starting to think the same thing: a solid start to a season usually means post season play. It's the end goal on every player's mind, but championships aren't won in May, so they try not to get ahead of themselves.

It's a warm, early summer evening when Sid gets his first major league start. Geno's disappointed to learn he's DHing this game- it's just the way the pitching rotation had worked out, but he'd spent all spring catching for Sid. He doesn't like watching someone else warm him up before the game, or the way the other guy pats him on the head before he takes his place behind the plate. In fact, he hates it. Geno finds himself so irrationally angry that he slams the first pitch he sees into the outfield bleachers. 

"I appreciate the early lead, G," Sid laughs when Geno's back in the dugout. He high fives him, fumbling with the cap on his head nervously.

"No be nervous, Sid," Geno says. "Light out."

"Right, lights out," Sid confirms. His voice falters, just a bit, but Geno catches it. Before he can say anything to try to calm him down, the inning is over and Sid's grabbing his glove to take the mound once again.

The second inning is an absolute mess. Sid can barely find the plate, and he's close to walking in a free run. Geno can see how tense he is; his shoulders are higher than usual, and he's slipping into a side arm on his delivery. It's really unlike him, and he wants to get out there so badly, to talk to him and calm his nerves. But that's not his job right now, even though the other catcher isn't even trying. Wearily, Geno glances over to the manager. He's scanning the book in his hands, eying the phone hooked up to the bullpen on the wall. He can tell he's considering a pitching change, and Geno clenches his teeth. Maybe it's a stupid assumption, honestly it probably is, but he knows Sid would be throwing better if he were catching for him. 

When the crowd starts booing after Sid walks in a run, Geno jumps up to block the pitching coach's way. "No pull," he insists. It's ridiculous, and he'll probably get hell for this, but he's got to try. For Sid. "It not Sid. He- I'm catch."

"Geno, what are you talking about?" His coach snaps.

"I'm catch!" He insists. "No pull Sid. I'm catch, he pitch better." 

"I can't just pull our catcher to put you in Geno," he says. "And since Crosby can't find the broad side of a barn tonight, he's coming out." 

Geno frowns. "Please. I'm help, you see. One time. I'm catch, Sid pitch better."

Shaking his head, the coach turns to the manager, obviously relaying Geno's ridiculous message to him. They discuss it for a while, until the manager nods and heads out of the dugout. "Get your gear on Malkin," the coach says. "I hope you're not wrong about this."

Geno grins and sprints to his bag, tossing his pads out quickly. He pulls them on and grabs his helmet, shrugging to the other catcher as he passes him on his way to the mound. As he gets closer, he notices Sid looks like a deer in headlights. 

"G, what's going on?" He asks, head tilted slightly in confusion.

"I'm tell coach put me catch," Geno says. "Sid best when I'm catch."

"Geno-"

"No, Sid. Light out, remember?" He smiles softly. "Throw to me. I'm best."

Sid rolls his eyes. "Right Geno, you're the best." He taps his hand against Geno's helmet and toes the mound, waiting for Geno to get behind the plate. The crowd seems to be just as confused by the position change, a loud murmur breaking out across the seats. Sid zeroes in on Geno's glove and he's able to drown it out almost entirely. Even with his stomach in his throat, seeing Geno behind the plate settles him. He doesn't have to wait for signals; they've paired off long enough for Geno to be able to tell what Sid's throwing him. Instead, he sucks in a breath and winds up, launching his fastball directly into Geno's mitt. 

It's like a a breath of fresh air when he hears the umpire call strike. Sid's heart rate slows considerably, and he finds he can settle in and do what he does. Knowing he's got Geno there, just sixty feet away, calms him considerably. The next three batters don't stand a chance, and Sid walks back into the dugout smiling for the first time since the game started. 

Geno's smiling smugly when he catches up to him. "I'm told you Sid. Light out, I'm catch." And oddly enough, Geno's prediction is completely correct. Sid doesn't give up a single run in the rest of the game, and the Pirates pull off a 3-1 win. After Sid's showing, the coaching staff never lets anyone but Geno catch for him. He quickly becomes the "go-to" in the Pirates rotation, and Geno is so proud of him he could bust. 

___

As the seasons fade and begin again, Geno feels so lucky to be able to call Sid his teammate. They've already shared four years in Pittsburgh together, and countless playoff runs. He knows he can trust Sid with his life if he needs to, because he's just that kind of stand up guy. Still, there's the little problem of being hopelessly in love with him. 

Geno and Sid spend nearly every moment together, which in a way is awesome. Sid is Geno's all time favorite person, so he doesn't complain about grabbing lunch, or catching a hockey game when they have a free evening. At the same time though, there's a dull ache in Geno's chest when he's around Sid. Every part of him wants to just reach out, hold him close and tell him everything he's terrified to. It is Sid, after all; he'd probably understand...

But Geno doesn't want him to just understand. He wants Sid to _reciprocate_. He wants to hold Sid after a tough loss, and celebrate with him after a spectacular performance. He wants to kiss him in the morning before they head out for practice, and cuddle him when they're drifting off at night. Geno wants to make room for all of Sid's special health foods in his fridge, and actually separate his laundry by color because Sid insists it should be done that way. He wants to love him so desperately, but he can't, and it's eating him up inside.

"Hey, Geno!" Tanger calls, snapping him from his daze. He hadn't realized he'd been zoning out, staring across the weight room absentmindedly. 

"Huh?" 

"You got my spot man?" He asks. He looks skeptical, like he's not sure he should trust Geno to save him if need be.

"Oh, yes. I've got," Geno insists. 

"As long as he doesn't catch Sid's reflection in the mirror," Marc Andre pipes up, giggling. "You're a dead man if he does, Tanger."

"Shut up, Flower," Geno insists. 

Tanger let's out a long sigh. "G, you need to tell him. Not just for your sake, but for my safety in the weight room." 

"I'm not know what you're talking about," he dismisses. Geno knows Tanger means well, but he just doesn't get it. He can't just waltz up to Sid and confess his feelings. That's not how this works. 

"Oh don't give us that shit," Flower says. "You've loved him for how long now? Just bite the bullet! I can't take much more of your pining."

Geno's frown deepens. "I'm not pine."

Tanger rolls his eyes. "Geno, you've been watching him do lat flies for ten minutes. You're pining."

"God, you know he would never say no to you anyway," Flower insists. "Everyone can see you two are basically dating. Might as well make it official, yeah?"

Geno shakes his head slowly. "No. We not date. I'm not tell Sid anything because there's nothing to tell. We friends. Best pitcher and catcher in MLB. That's that." 

"Stubborn ass," he mutters under his breath. "Good luck with this one, Kris. Hopefully he keeps his eyes from wandering while you squat." Marc Andre walks away, chuckling when Geno throws a weight clip at him, missing in dramatic fashion. 

"Yikes, G. Little off on your accuracy, eh?" Sid jokes. He holds out the clip to him as he approaches, wiping a towel over his sweaty face. 

Geno nods. "Next time I hit Flower in big, ugly nose. Then he shut up."

"The boys giving you a hard time again?" 

"Just telling him like it is," Tanger shrugs. "Your counterpart is as stubborn as they come, Sid."

Sid chuckles. "Aw, cut him some slack, Tanger. G's just all about business. That's why we keep winning: no distractions."

Geno nods silently. "Yes, no distractions. Now squat, Tanger."

___

The season ends earlier than anyone hoped it would. The team comes up just a little bit short in a close series against the Cubs, and just like that, it's over again. It's a tough loss to swallow, and Geno seems to be taking it harder than anyone else. It shouldn't have ended the way it did, especially after the showing Sid gave in game two. It's not common for a pitcher to throw a perfect game at any time of year, and during the playoffs? It just doesn't happen. But Sidney Crosby made it happen. And Geno was there for every single pitch, his heart in his throat every time the ball left Sid's hand. He's never seen him so in the zone before, it was hypnotic to watch. And the blinding smile on Sid's face in the top of the ninth? _God_ , Geno was pretty sure Sid could've sucker punched him and he would've said thank you. 

The moment Sid threw the final strike, Geno sprinted at him as fast as he could. He quite literally jumped into his arms, screaming at the top of his lungs. "SID SID YOU DID IT! SID YOU FUCKING BEST!"

And in typical Sidney Crosby fashion, he laughed. He held Geno up and hugged him just as tightly. "I couldn't have done it without you, G." 

That moment, those few seconds that Geno got to experience with Sid, he'll cherish forever. Especially because the rest of the series was so terrible. Geno didn't hit like he should've, and he'd made careless mistakes in the backstop. There's so many ways he could've been better, and he's so frustrated he nearly snaps his bat in half. He blew it. He blew it for the city, the team, and Sid. A perfect game, forgotten because of a lost series. 

"Hey, G," Sid says. He slumps down next to him in the clubhouse, running his hands down his legs nervously. "It's not your fault, ya know."

"It is," Geno mumbles. "Too many mistakes. Not hit enough."

Sid shakes his head. "Don't do that, Geno. We all could've played better."

"Not you. Sid play best game ever. Sid can't pitch better. I blow win." He shrugs, his head hanging. "I need play better. We come so close to our chance... make all of Pittsburgh proud, and I'm have worst game. Let the whole city down. Let you down." 

"Stop it." There's a biting tone in Sid's voice. He never wants to hear anyone be self deprecating, but coming from Geno, it's so much worse. Sid's never met someone who works as hard as Geno, who's so passionate about the game. He knows how much a shortened season hurts, but he can't allow Geno to ever blame himself. "You didn't let anyone down, G, okay? You are so incredible; probably the best catcher in the entire league. You always give us so much, and we can't ask you to do anymore. And me? Geno you could _never_ let me down. Ever. You're best friend, my catcher. I can't do this without you."

Geno feels a smile threatening to break out across his face. Because even though they lost, and even though Geno is convinced he played like shit, Sid still believes in him. Sid still thinks he's the best catcher in the MLB, and that actually does make him feel a little bit better. "I wanted win series for you, Sid. You pitch perfect game. Now people don't care. People ignore how amazing you are."

Sid's got a bashful smile on his face. "G, I don't care what anyone else has to say. I threw a perfect game to my guy. They can't take that away from me." As Geno glances up at his best friend, the other half of the dynamic duo, his heart unclenches just a bit. It's certainly not easy loving Sidney Crosby the way he does, but he couldn't imagine not. If they have to stay best friends, then Geno can live with that. He knows he can't have Sid the way he so desperately craves, but well, that'll just have to be okay. Because even when they lose, Geno gets to see Sid smile at him, and he can count it as a win. 

___

It's early November now, and with the World Series over, the MLB has just announced its 2017 player awards. To the shock of nearly everyone, except Geno really, Sidney Crosby walks away with the Cy Young. It's a close vote, and Geno is so proud he starts to cry. He calls Sid immediately after seeing him accept, congratulating him and talking his ear off about how amazing he is. And Sid sounds so happy. He chatters back to Geno about anything that crosses his mind, and he really doesn't have a single care in the world. Geno decides in that moment he has to put together a celebration for him. Sid deserves the best, and Geno knows he can deliver on that.

"Guys, we take Sid out tonight!" Geno exclaims, bursting into Tanger's apartment. As expected, Flower is sitting on the couch, playing video games and nursing a beer. 

"Why don't _you_ take Sid out tonight?" Flower asks. "Finally ask him on a date."

"No Flower," Geno grumbles. "I'm throw big celebration for Cy Young win. I'm invite all of Sid's friends. Even you."

"Real funny, Malkin," he says. "I'm just saying, you'd probably have a better time if you got to be alone with him."

"I'm tell you, Flower. Nothing to tell Sid. Don't need to be alone with him," he sighs. 

"Whatever you say, buddy," Flower concedes. 

"You come tonight, or not?" 

"Of course we're coming," Tanger answers for them. "Just tells us when and where."

Geno takes out all the stops for Sid's celebration. He rents out the VIP section of the best club downtown, and invites everyone he can think of that Sid would be happy to see. This ends up including the entire Pirates team, half of the Penguins because Canadians really just can't stay away from hockey, and even a few Steelers. It's amazing to see the impact Sid has had on this city in just a few years, but it's no surprise to Geno. He's loved him from the moment he saw him in Florida all those years ago; it just took everyone else a while to catch up.

Sid wears one of his best suits out, and Geno's trying to drown his desires in shots of shitty vodka. When he's loose enough to guarantee he's not going to jump him Geno approaches Sid and claps him on the back. "Mr. Cy Young," he smirks.

"G!" Sid exclaims. "Thank you so much for this. I can't believe you put all of this together."

Geno shrugs like it's no big deal. "Sid best baseball player in the world, have to celebrate." 

A soft blush creeps across Sid's cheeks. "I don't know about that, G."

"I do. Sid best. Win best award, always pitch best. No argument," Geno deadpans.

"That's because you're behind the plate for me. You make me so much better, Geno," Sid admits. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." 

_Well shit_ , Geno certainly hadn't been expecting that. He kind of feels like he wants to cry, but he mostly just wants to hug Sid closely and never let him go. He does neither, though. Instead, he smiles. "That why we two-headed monster, Sid. Best duo. I'm get drink, okay? Have fun."

He stalks off to the bar before Sid can protest and rubs at his eyes harshly. This is killing him, slowly, but surely and Geno doesn't know how to handle it anymore. His stomach is starting to hurt, and there's a lump in his throat he can't get rid of. "Vodka neat," he chokes out when the bartender approaches. He needs to get his head on straight, but first, he needs to get the image of Sid's perfect face out of his mind. 

"Tough day?" Someone beside him asks. Geno glances over, spotting a stiff looking man. He's nursing some kind of dark beer, his lips curled up into a smile. It makes Geno uncomfortable, though he can't really tell why.

"I'm Russian. Love vodka," he says. He's hoping if he keeps his replies short and simple, this man will take a hint.

He doesn't, of course. Instead, he leans into Geno's side. "Yeah, I thought I recognized you. They don't make 'em like you around here, man. So big, and strong."

Geno's eye brows shoot up, and he tries to back away. This only sends him tumbling into other people, and causes the man's hand to latch onto his arm. He's laughing, which only makes Geno feel worse. "Where ya going?" He asks. "How about you let me buy you that drink and we can talk about outlets for your frustrations."

Geno shakes his head quickly, his fists clenching. He knows he can overpower this guy easily, but he doesn't want the aftermath of his temper splashed all over the front page of the newspaper. Instead, he looks around uneasily, trying to find anyone who can help him out of this. 

And then, like the patron saint he is, Sidney Crosby shows up. He sidles up along Geno and leans in. "There you are babe! I've been looking for you." He presses a kiss to Geno's cheek, and his brain just short circuits. He doesn't even see the other man huff and stomp off. All he can think about is _Sid Sid Sid_. His soft lips, his beautiful voice, his- _oh, this is bad_. Why would Sid do this to him? How could he just march on over and kiss him? 

__

Anger flares up inside of Geno. The rational part of him knows Sid didn't mean any harm, but the part cloudy with vodka and Sid's cologne is pissed. "Why you do that Sid?!" He hisses, nudging him away harshly. He shakes his head and storms away, leaving his drink on the bar. 

__

Sid's hot on his tail, chasing him through the club until they're standing outside in the chilly fall air. Geno's breath is coming out in little puffs, and he's grabbing at his hair to try to calm down. 

__

"G, what was that?" Sid asks. 

__

"Why you do that Sid?" Geno says again. "Why? Why you kiss me like that?!"

__

Sid looks confused. His lips are pursed, eyes narrowed. "I could tell that guy was making you uncomfortable, G. I thought you needed saving. I just- I wanted to help," he explains. "Why are you so angry with me?"

__

Geno's eyes are squeezed shut, his teeth grinding together. He knows he shouldn't be mad at Sid; he was just being a good teammate, a good guy. But god damn it, he wants it to _mean something_. He wants Sid to look at him and be unable to stop himself from kissing him. He doesn't want make believe and "saving". "Because I'm never have you for real," he blurts out. And there it is. Geno's eyes snap open and his hand flies to his mouth, but the damage is done. He can't get those words back and now, now he has to stand here and watch Sid be disgusted, and hate him. Tears prick his eyes. 

__

"I- you- w-what? Geno? I-I don't-" Sid can't form a coherent thought, and Geno feels so guilty he wants to throw up. He can't look at Sid, can't see his beautiful face twisted up in confusion like that. So he leaves. Or, he tries to. As he reaches for the handle to get back inside, Sid's tugging on his arm and spinning him back around. 

__

Geno opens his mouth, tries to say something, but then, Sid is kissing him. And _oh my god, Sid is kissing him_. His arms wrap around him instantly, pulling him close and holding him there. He can't believe this moment is real; there's no way this is really happening to him. 

__

"Geno," Sid whispers as he breaks away. His nose is bumping against his slowly, eye lashes tickling his cheeks. "G, you've always had me."

__


End file.
